Aftermath
by Ilmare-Ilse
Summary: Season 5 Finale Post Ep Spoilers There are hurts that go too deep. How do you pick up the threads of an old life?
1. Chapter 1

His head hurt. He was lying on an uncomfortable floor, with something soft pressed against his forehead.

He could smell alcohol on his clothes, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember how he had gotten to where he was right now. The next thing he became aware of was a feminine voice speaking to him. As he opened his eyes and saw a blurry, dark haired figure, he uttered the first name that came to mind…

"Jess?"

"Don! Thank God you're awake! It's… It's me… Stella…"

As he focused his eyes on her sad and concerned face, it all came back to him. They were at the bar, toasting in Jess' honor when all hell broke loose, shots rang, people went down on the floor and then everything went dark… They were toasting in Jess honor? Right, she had been shot; she was gone, for good…

"Right... err… Sorry"

He tried to clear the lump in his throat, tried to look away, to keep the tears from falling, but he wasn't being very successful at any of those things, so he tried to focus on something else instead, to keep some sort of control.

"Is everyone ok?"

"Yes, only some scrapes from the broken glass and Adam got a deep cut on his arm. You got the worst of it."

He tried to touch his forehead, but Stella batted his hand away.

"Don't touch it. It looks like a bullet grazed you and you went down hard. You scared the hell out of us! Just stay still, the bus is on the way…"

At the mention of the bus, his first instinct was to flee. He didn't get very far, though, as a piercing pain shot through his head the minute he tried to sit up. He sank back down, his hand going back to the cloth on his forehead.

"What part of stay still did you not get?!"

He settled for glaring at Stella, trying to sit up again, albeit more slowly.

"We can't waste time, Stella! We need to find the sons of bitches that did this!"

He felt another set of hands trying to keep him down, turning around to see the face of Dr. Sheldon Hawkes.

"Slow down your horses, cowboy. The cavalry is already on it. All you need to do right now is to lie down and wait for the ambulance to get here. You were literally shot in the head, and only your thick skull seems to have saved you from serious harm. You were very lucky tonight…"

Don pushed away Hawkes' hands, muttering in a low growl:

"You're right, Doc, I've been feeling like the luckiest man on earth today!"

He covered his eyes with his hand, not being able to stifle the sob that tore through his throat, or the tears that spilled from his eyes. He felt Stella's and Hawkes' hands, coming to rest on his shoulders and squeezing reassuringly.

"I'm sorry Don; I shouldn't have said th…"

Hawkes' apology was cut short.

"Don't worry about it, Doc… I know you mean well, I just… I can't… I don't want to go to the hospital right now… I can't just sit still… I feel like I'll go mad!"

Don's breath was coming in short, panicked gasps, his rant was stopped by Stella, who was holding a handkerchief over the wound on his forehead and stroking his arm with her other hand.

"Hush, sweetheart, we only want you to get checked over, maybe give you something for the splitting headache you probably have right now. We'll stay the whole time with you and we'll make sure to get you out of there as soon as we can, ok?"

Don looked from Stella to Hawkes, and with a resigned sigh, he nodded his head, muttering a soft "A'right", just as the ambulance arrived.

They efficiently loaded him into the Ambulance, Stella and Hawkes going with him, as promised. As the ambulance drove off, Mac looked at what was left of his team, giving them a determined look.

"Alright, we have work to do."

The end (Maybe?)

A/N: This is my first ever story, it was not betaed, since it was a "spur of the moment" kind of thing, and I couldn't get the scene out of my head after watching the season 5 finale. I hope I made the characters justice. I don't know if this could continue, but I'd love to see what you think of my little tale, and if I made justice to the characters. Feel free to review, if you feel like it...


	2. Chapter 2

The visit to the Hospital lasted three long hours. After being poked, prodded, blinded by a number of flashlights shining in his eyes and asked far more details about the events of the day than he cared to remember, his head was stitched up and he was sent home, with a bottle of painkillers and a note to stay away from work for at least two weeks.

He didn't miss the fact that the doctor wanted to keep him there for a couple of nights, and it had not much to do with the mild concussion that was causing his headache. He also didn't miss the hushed conversation that Hawkes had with the doctor. He had gotten him out, probably under the condition that someone had to babysit him the whole damn time.

He hadn't said a word since they left the Hospital, the same feeling of emptiness that he had felt before the shooting was just starting to take over him, so he just sat silently in the car, looking out the window, while Hawkes drove them somewhere and Stella made some phone calls. They had kept their promise and stayed with him the whole time, to the annoyance of doctors and nurses trying to work around them, and for that he was thankful.

They were pulling up in front of his apartment building. The sight reminding him how much he wanted to lock himself in, probably with as many bottles of beer, whisky or anything else, as he could find in his kitchen and drink himself into a stupor. The minute they all got out of the car and went upstairs together, he realized that he probably wouldn't get any of those wishes tonight. As they reached his door, Stella used his keys to open the door – _when did Stella get my keys?!_- Well, now that he thought about it, he was not carrying his gun anymore. He should have figured they had taken his belongings before.

As soon as they entered his apartment, he couldn't help to notice that something was not as it should be. He had missed Jess all day, he felt her absence like someone had ripped his guts off all over again, but it was not only that. This morning her things were scattered all over his apartment, a black top that was splattered with tomato sauce last night was hanging from the chair, the shoes that he had taken off to rub her sore feet were nowhere to be found, the pictures of her, or of the two of them together, were turned face down on the shelves, even the coffee cups they had used early this morning were gone. They had overslept this morning, not having time to have a proper breakfast, so they settled for sharing a cup of coffee, the last one they had together.

The loss of all these items brought tears to his eyes. Probably someone had come by and took all the stuff away, trying to spare him the pain to have to remove them himself. He didn't get much time to decide how to feel about it, since just at that moment, a loud, clanking sound came from the kitchen, accompanied by a familiar voice uttering a colorful curse. Don turned in the direction the noise came from, his brow furrowing as much as the bandage on his forehead allowed.

"Hey Messer! What the hell are you doing in my kitchen!!"

He approached the kitchen, Stella right behind him, finding a steaming pot on the stove and Danny holding his thumb under the running water of the sink. Danny looked apologetically from Stella to him and said the first thing that came to mind, while pointing at the stove.

"I'm making soup?"

Don sighed, running a hand over his tired face, and stopping when he touched his sore forehead.

"How did you get in here?" He asked in a soft voice.

Danny looked nervous; he turned off the water and went to turn off the stove, this time picking up a dishtowel to lift the lid of the pot. He turned to Don.

"You gave me a spare key, remember? Just like I gave you one when I moved into my new place, in case we locked ourselves out and all that…"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember… Shouldn't you be at the crime scene though? You didn't leave Mac and Lindsay alone working the case, did you?" He knew he wasn't being very nice, but he didn't want the whole crime lab camping at his place and watching him while he… did whatever he was going to do after they left him in peace.

Danny didn't seem to take it too personally though. "Well, apparently, being at the receiving end of a hail of bullets means that you're not supposed to work the scene yourself, so we're all off the case." He said with a shrug. "Lindsay went to my mom's to check on Lucy, Mac drove Adam to his apartment and Sid went home to his wife…"

"Then why exactly are you here when you should be at _your_ home with _your_ wife?"

Danny was saved from having to answer Don's question by Stella. "Don, we all thought that it would be a good idea to have someone come over here, clean up a bit and have something warm to eat ready before you got here. Since Danny had the key, and both Lindsay and Lucy were staying at his mom's anyway, he volunteered to come."

Don was still looking at Danny. "So, you decided to clean up a bit? Where's all her stuff Dan!?" He turned around, heading towards his room, his voice getting louder. "Who gave you the right to take away her things!?" He reached his bedroom door, opening it. Over his bed there was a box with all of Jess' things: her clothes were neatly folded, books carefully stacked one on top of the other, her boots were next to his bed – the last time he saw those boots they were being gently removed from her sore feet, and he had suggested that she never wore them again – damn, they were just trying to help, and yet all he wanted was to curl up in a corner of his room and shut everything else out.

He turned around, looking apologetically at Danny. "Listen, Dan, I appreciate the things you all did", he turned to Hawkes and Stella, "but I just want to be left alone…"

Stella spoke up. "Don, one of the conditions of your release from the hospital was for you not to be alone at your place. We know you want to be by yourself, but…"

He knew the lecture that was coming, so he just spared himself the pain. "Fine, stay, make yourselves at home, cook, clean, form a happy family if you feel like it. I'm taking a nap, alone in my room!" With that he closed his bedroom door on their faces.

He knew he wasn't being reasonable, but he decided that tonight he was entitled to be a bit unreasonable. He could make amends tomorrow, or the day after, probably they would still be here next month, whether he wanted it or not.

He moved to his bed, sitting next to the box with Jess' things. He looked at some of them, but soon decided that tonight he wouldn't be able to look through them, so he set the box on the floor by his bed. Finally, he figured that the nap wouldn't be such a bad idea, so he lay down on his side, curling up on himself.

Not ten minutes later, he heard his doorbell, followed by the door opening, hushed conversations and finally a soft knock on his bedroom door. Why couldn't this people let him be in peace!?

Not moving from his position on his bed, he replied in a clipped tone. "'m not here! Go 'way!"

"Donnie?" That was not any of the voices he had expected to hear. He lifted his head to meet blue eyes much like his own.

"Sam?" He asked in disbelief. He didn't have the energy to lift himself from his position, as she sat on the opposite side of the bed, near his head. She spoke in a soft voice.

"Hey Donnie… How are you doing?" She gently traced with her finger the bandage over his forehead. Don allowed the gesture, but ignored her question.

"How did you get here, Sam?"

She hesitated. "I heard about Jessica this afternoon, Don. I tried to call you, left you about one hundred messages, and you didn't call back! Then I heard about the shooting tonight, and when I called again, Stella answered. She said you were not seriously hurt and that you were on your way here, so here I am!" She stilled her movements over his forehead and looked at him in the eye. "Donnie, how are you?"

He tried to answer, but the tears flooding his eyes and choking his throat only allowed a few words to get out. "I… She's gone… I lost her… Oh… Sam" A sob broke from his throat, then another and another. Dimly he noticed that Sam was now holding him against her chest, his head pillowed on her legs. He had a thought about him being the big brother, the one supposed to take care of her. But then he realized that they had always been there for each other, no matter which one of them was the one in need.

He lost track of how much time he had spent crying himself out, hearing Sam's soft reassurances that _it'd be alright_, _he could let go_ and other things he didn't quite get, but that surprisingly made him feel a little bit better.

Finally, when all his tears were spent, he allowed himself to fall asleep, safe in the knowledge that he was not alone anymore, Sam was here.

A/N: Thank you all for your comments, and for reading! I'm still not sure how much longer will i keep writing this, but i thank you all for the support!


	3. Chapter 3

He slept through the rest of the night and most of the next day. He finally opened his eyes to find his sister sitting on a chair by his bed, holding a cup of tea and reading a magazine. She noticed him looking at her, and gave him a gentle smile.

"Hi there, sleepyhead."

He yawned and stretched a bit. "Wha' time's it?"

She looked at her watch. "It's almost 6 pm."

He sat up slowly, hoping that it wouldn't aggravate the headache he was starting to feel. "6 pm? You should've woken me sooner."

She chuckled at that. "Actually, Hawkes came by and woke you three times, every four hours, to give you some meds and check on your head. You even answered a few questions and went right back to sleep."

"So I wasn't dreaming when Hawkes shone that damn flashlight in my face?"

"Nah, it was not a dream. Although you made it clear that you didn't enjoy that kind of awakening, so he stopped doing it after that."

He moved to the edge of his bed, gathering the will to get up and start a new day. "Did you all get any sleep? You didn't have to stay up all night on my account"

"Well, Stella took your guest bedroom, Hawkes crashed on your couch and since it's been a long time since either one of us snuck up on the other's bed thinking that the boogie man was coming after them, I thought you wouldn't mind if I crashed in your bed."

He ducked his head, blushing lightly. "Yeah, but usually I was the one scaring the boogieman away." He looked up, reaching out to take Sam's hand. "Thank you, Sam."

It was her turn to blush. "Hey, it was about time I repay the favor." She stood up and bent to kiss his forehead. She put her hands on his shoulders. "Are you up for a shower or do you want to take another little nap?"

Despite himself, he chuckled softly. "Is that your polite way to tell me that I need to take a shower?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Have I ever been polite when I think you need a shower? You're not at the worse I've smelled you, but maybe a hot shower could make you feel a little bit better."

He stopped himself from telling her that right now he thought nothing would ever make him feel better. After all, Sam was really trying to help. He couldn't stop the knot that formed in his throat though, so with a soft nod of his head, he turned away from her and moved to the closet, to find a towel.

* * *

The shower took a bit longer than usual, and by the time he was done, both Sam and Hawkes were waiting for him in his room. They looked at him, a bit surprised by the sweet scent that came from the bathroom as soon as he opened the door.

Don ducked his head "Hey Doc." He looked anywhere but to their faces. They probably already figured who the rose scented soap belonged to; they couldn't have missed his red eyes either.

Hawkes acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary, merely studying Don with a clinical eye. "Hello Don, how's your head feeling?"

Don kept looking down, and shrugged. "Better I guess, it still aches a bit."

"Any dizziness, blurry vision?"

"No."

"Anything out of the ordinary?"

"Other than sleeping 16 hours straight, nope."

"Alright, I think you are well enough to move around your apartment. If you start feeling dizzy or nauseous, you should sit down, and if you feel any sudden pain, you should let me know, ok?"

"Ok."

"Now, you probably should eat something before taking your next dose of meds, are you up for it?"

Don nodded and followed Hawkes and Sam out of his room. On his living room, he found Mac, sitting on his couch and talking on the phone.

"I know that we are not allowed to take part on the investigation, but there's someone out there who wants to take out one or all of our team, and if you have some idea of who it could be, I should know about it!" He waited for a response on the other side of the line. "Fine, please call me if you know something. Goodbye." He turned around to see Don, Sam and Hawkes coming out of the bedroom.

"Hey Don, How are you?"

Don shrugged, hanging his head. "I've been better. Head still hurts a bit."

Mac noticed that he had avoided the real meaning of the question, but he let him be for now. "Well, personally I'm glad that you're complaining of a headache, instead of a hole in your skull."

"Yeah, yeah, me too, I guess." Don looked around the apartment.

"Did Stella and Danny suddenly decide that I don't need the whole crime lab to watch over my sleep?"

Mac chuckled, "Don't think so, Danny went home last night and I convinced Stella to go an hour ago."

Meanwhile, Sam had gone to the kitchen, bringing with her a steaming bowl of soup and a glass of water, for Don's meds. Don gave the bowl an odd look.

"That's not the soup Danny was making last night is it?"

"Hey, Danny went through the trouble of making you noodle soup! And it's not bad, you should taste it!"

"Fine, I'll eat the soup." He sat down and ate in silence for a while. He noticed that Mac looked worried.

"Mac, do they know who was using us for target practice yet?"

"If they do, they aren't talking. I've called both Sinclair and Quinn, and they are not giving me anything. Sinclair keeps saying that we'll have to put up with the police protection until they have something."

"Police protection?"

"Yeah, they have three uniforms standing downstairs, and a squad car parked outside your building. Hopefully they'll send one of them away since the three of us are here." Mac phone rang just at that moment.

"Taylor… An investigation? .. Alright, what time tomorrow?..." He stood up, looking briefly at Don and moving in the opposite direction. "He won't be available for an interview… Well, ask the doctor to authorize it then! … I was in charge of the operation, he shouldn't have to answer any questions for it! … Of course that Sinclair was aware of the situation!! We both agreed that under the circumstances, it was the best option!!" He looked apologetically at Don, before opening his front door, to keep taking in the hallway. They couldn't hear the rest of the conversation, which lasted no more than two minutes, but they could hear Mac yelling over the phone, and hanging up on whoever was on the other side of the line. When he came back in, Don wanted answers.

"Mac, what's going on?"

Mac sighed. "IAB is starting an investigation on the operation to rescue Connor Dunbrook. They are reviewing the procedure; they say we could have avoided some casualties." He lowered his eyes. "They want to know if the death of the man with the Desert Eagle was a good shot." Mac looked up, directly at Don. "Don, IAB wants to interview you about the death of that man."

TBC…

* * *

A/N: If you are still reading this, thank you! I'm still new at this, so it would be great if you could review, whether you liked it or not… I'm good at taking punches.

Hope to see you around soon… as soon as I figure out where to go from here, that is…


	4. Chapter 4

Don just sat there, staring at his folded hands over the table. He didn't react to Mac's affirmation that they would make everything they could to stop IAB's investigation, that the crime lab was behind him, that Sinclair was knocking on every possible door to delay the interview until they had some evidence to help him. Don just sat there, staring at his hands.

He knew exactly what had happened on that basement. Some parts of that day had passed in a blur for him, but that shot was the clearest moment in that whole hellish day. He couldn't deny that.

Don noticed that Mac was waiting for some sort of response. He didn't really know how long he had sat there; probably long enough for Mac and Sam to get worried, judging by the look on their faces.

He turned to Mac. "So? When do they want to talk to me?"

Mac looked at him surprised. "Don, we won't let them talk to you. The evidence alone will prove that it was a good shot. By the time your medical leave is over we'll have it all sorted out."

"Mac, when do they want to talk to me?"

"No Don, you are not going to talk to IAB before we get a chance to check the evi-"

"Mac, you know I'll have to talk to IAB sooner or later, you know as well as I do what the evidence is going to say. It won't make a difference."

"Don, you don't have to do it now…"

Don knew that they were trying to protect him, he didn't want them to have to choose between doing their work and helping them, so he would take the chance away from them.

"Mac, I know I've always had your support, but I have to do this, and I have to do it on my own. I'm going to stop by the precinct tomorrow, and I'll deal with IAB."

To signal the end of the conversation, Don stood up and headed for his room. "I'm going to get some sleep. Why don't you guys go home? I appreciate your help, but I'm fine. You don't have to watch over my sleep…"

Mac knew how stubborn Don could be, so he let him have his way for now, he'll figure out a way to help him anyway. He grabbed his coat. "Alright Don, if that's what you want, then I'm going home. Please, call me when you get to the precinct, ok?"

Don nodded. "Sure, I'll give you a call".

After Mac left, Sam looked at Don apologetically. "Can I stay here for the night? I promise not to nag… too much…" She smiled sheepishly.

Don chuckled. "Well, if you promise, then you can stay. Make yourself at home; I'm going to sleep for a while." He got in his room, closing the door.

Sam sat on his couch, hoping that they could help Don with what was coming his way.

* * *

The next morning found Don and Sam arriving at the precinct. No matter what he said, he had not managed to convince Sam to let him come alone, so he had grudgingly accepted her company, under the condition that she would sit quietly in a corner, not drawing attention to herself and not interfering in any conversations that he might have with the IAB people.

While Sam was waiting in the hallway, Don was directed to an interrogation room. He didn't ask for a union lawyer, so they were alone.

The IAB officer pointed to a chair. "Please sit down, Detective Flack.. I am detective Stephen Green, in charge of the investigation." He eyed the bandage on Flack's forehead. "How's your head?"

"The doctor said that I had a mild concussion, I should have a headache for a few days and I have to go back so they take out the stitches next week."

"You were very lucky."

Don glared. "You didn't want me here to talk about how _lucky _I am, did you?"

"Fair enough. Getting back to business; we are investigating the procedures used during the raid that took place on may 20th, were Connor Dunbrook was held hostage. Who was in charge of the operation?"

"Mac Taylor was in charge of the investigation. As soon as we got a lead on the location of Mr. Dunbrook's captors, we collected a team and headed there."

"Did Detective Taylor ask you to take part on the raid?"

"No, I asked to take part on the investigation."

"Was there a reason for your interest in the investigation?"

Don looked down at his hands, avoiding Green's eyes. "Yeah, I had a… personal interest in finding detective Angell's killer."

Don was expecting detective Green to inquire about his relationship with Jess, so he was surprised when he didn't go down that road. "What evidence led you to that warehouse?"

"Hmm… I think they found some trace on the tires of the Hummer used in the kidnapping. I'm sure it's all on the reports…"

"Ok, tell me about the operation."

Don sighed. "We arrived at the warehouse with a SWAT team around 5 pm. Detectives Taylor, Bonasera and Messer went in with me. We took them by surprise, but they were armed. Shots were fired from both sides, I saw two SWAT officers leaving the building with gunshot wounds. Detective Taylor went after one of the suspects, I think he found Connor Dunbrook there. I lost track of detectives Messer and Bonasera, and I went after one of the perps."

By now, Don was hunched over the table, looking down at his hands and wringing them nervously. Green prompted him to continue. "Go on, what happened then?"

"There was a set of stairs, going into a basement. I went downstairs and found him on the floor. He… He had a gunshot wound on his abdomen; he was wearing a bandage over a wound on his left shoulder… I approached him, he … he was looking at a dessert eagle on the floor to his right." His breath was coming faster, his eyes were tearing up, so he closed them, trying to keep any tears from falling. He dropped his head, to hold it between his shaking hands. He was startled by Green's gentle prompt.

"What happened then, detective Flack?"

For the first time in the interview, Don lifted his head and looked straight into Green's eyes, silently accepting the consequences of his actions.

"I shot him."

Green's expression turned puzzled. "You shot him? Was he reaching for his gun?"

It was Don'ts time to look confused, he lowered his eyes. "I… I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? If the suspect was incapacitated and he was not reaching for his gun then why did you shoot him?!"

Don's breath was coming in short pants and he was trembling softly. He knew rationally that he had shot the guy, he had not asked himself why, so he said the first thing that came to mind, trying to explain what he couldn't explain even to himself.

"He was the one who killed her, I wanted her back, I… I just want her back…"

He felt like he couldn't breathe, he tried to loosen the knot of his tie, but his hands were shaking too much. He started to think that maybe Mac had been right, that coming here today had not been such a good idea after all.

He dimly heard a knock on the two way mirror and people bursting through the door, some angry conversations. and the next thing he noticed was that his chair had been turned and he was looking at Hawkes' concerned face. He noticed that Hawkes was talking to him, but it took him a moment to understand the words that he kept repeating, in a soothing voice.

"Don, I need you to relax, you need to slow down or you'll make yourself sick. Breath slowly… in… and out… slower Don…"

Don tried to follow Hawkes' instructions, and after a few minutes he managed to calm down somewhat. He gently squeezed Hawkes' hand. "Thanks Doc."

He also noticed that Mac was now in the interrogation room, biting Green's head off. He only heard the end of his tirade, but he got the general gist of it.

"… YOU WILL NOT GET ANYWHERE NEAR HIM UNLESS THERE'S A UNION LAWYER PRESENT AND IT HAS BEEN APPROVED BY HIS DOCTOR!! THIS INTERVIEW IS OVER!!" Mac turned around, putting his hand on Don's shoulder. "C'mon Don, let's get out of here."

Don stood up, with a little help from Hawkes. "Yeah, just gimme a second…" He started fumbling with his belt, finally taking his badge and putting it over the table. He looked at Green. "I guess you'll be needing thi-"

Before he could finish, Green stopped his movements. "Detective Flack, why don't you hold onto that until we have finished our investigation? If we need more information from you, we will give you a call-" At the glare Mac sent him, he corrected himself. "and check with your union lawyer and your physician if you are able to answer our questions. We appreciate your help."

Don nodded stiffly, picking up his badge and leaving the interrogation room in the company of Hawkes and Mac, not knowing if he'd be allowed to wear that badge for much longer.

A/N: First of all, thank you all for reading, and reviewing! I have to say that I know nothing about police procedures and interrogations, so I apologize if something is too off.

Feel free to review if you liked it or if you don't!


	5. Chapter 5

The next few days were rather uneventful. Other than sleeping, trying to sleep, and enduring the company of the whole crime lab – They took turns visiting him throughout the day – He didn't have much else to do. Thankfully Sam had finally agreed to go back to her home. She was coming back the next day anyway – She was going with him to the funeral.

The funeral. It was tomorrow, that much he knew. He had no idea how it would be like. Hell, he didn't even know where they would do it! He had not asked any questions about the funeral, he didn't want to know where they would leave the body of the woman he loved. That would make it final, her last resting place.

He didn't want to think about it, so he tried to shift his focus back to his visitors. Danny was still babbling about how Lucy was starting to make sounds and how she would be talking in no time. Lindsay, on the other hand, was looking at him. He must have been distracted for a while, because Lindsay looked worried, and Danny was pretending not to notice, but they both kept giving him that same compassionate looks he hated so much.

He took a long sip of his beer. How he wished he could get wasted, but he couldn't do that. Sure, Danny and Lindsay were babysitting him, but more important than that, he couldn't look at Sam's face while hung-over, he couldn't do that to her. So he was just having one beer.

Call him bitter, but he had had enough stories of their beautiful baby girl for the day, so he changed subjects. "So, any news from work?"

If Danny noticed the change of subject, he didn't comment on it. "Nothing too interesting, we're working on a couple of cases, but things seem to be a bit slow this week."

"What about the shooting at the bar?"

Danny glanced at Lindsay, looking for a way out, it seemed, but apparently there was not much they could do to keep the information from him. "Hmm… Well, they don't have the guys yet, but it looks like part of the band that kidnapped Dunbrook's son was behind the shooting…"

Don sighed. "So they're pissed about the raid too? They should get in line…"

"Don't worry about it, man. They still have a squad car parked outside your door, and we have a couple of uniforms following us around town. They won't get to us again…"

"Yeah, yeah…" He didn't want to say it, but maybe going down murdered by an angry commando guy wouldn't be so bad right now…

He stood up from his couch. "Listen guys, I don't mean to be rude, but I think I'm calling it a night…"

Lindsay and Danny stood up. "Sure man, call us if you need anything, ok? No matter the time!" Danny patted him on the back on his way to the door.

"Get some sleep Don, we'll see you tomorrow…" Lindsay followed Danny out the door.

Don closed the door and turned around to look at his empty apartment. It was the first time he was alone in his place since that day.

He had three choices: finish the six pack that Danny brought, look through the box of Jess' stuff that still sat untouched next to his bed, or go to sleep.

Well, it was taking him three to four hours to fall asleep anyway, so he may as well start now…

* * *

_He was lying on the floor, everything was a fuzzy mess, but the only thing he could really feel was pain. He couldn't focus on anything but the piercing pain on his side. Someone was talking, calling his name…_

"_Don!"_

"_If you can hear me, squeeze my hand!"_

"_Stay with me Don! Help is on the way!"_

"_Stay with me!"_

_

* * *

  
_

"_Stay with me!"_

_The words were the same, the pain still all consuming, but the voice was different. His sight cleared enough to see his own face, talking down at him._

"_Come on Jess, hang on, we're almost there!"_

"_Stay with me, Jess! Don't leave me!"_

_

* * *

_

_Now the words were gone, but the pain remained the same. He looked up to see his face again looking down at him. But it was not the same._

_Where there was fear before, now he saw anger. He was pointing the gun at him, looking from the gun on his left, to the wound on the shoulder, and the anger turned to rage, to madness. _

_He looked up to see himself pointing the barrel of the gun to his head, and a single shot rang._

_

* * *

  
_

Don bolted from his bed, his chest heaving. After a few minutes he managed to control his breathing somewhat, so he got up and left his room.

"To hell with it, I'll just have another beer."

* * *

A/N: First of all, I'm sorry for the delay, it's been a crazy couple of weeks. Second, thank you to all who read, review, put me in alerts, and all that, I really apreciate it and I hope I won0't dissapoint. And Third, I apologize if this chapter seems rushed, or too short, or neither here nor there, but I didn0t want to write the funeral right away, so I gave poor Don a few days off.

I would still love it if you would review! Thank you so much for reading, and I'll see you around!


	6. Chapter 6

The funeral was even more painful than Don had imagined. Even though he had kept his distance when he delivered Jess badge, Cliff Angell had seen right through his façade, so when Don and Sam arrived at the church, he invited them both to sit with Jess' family.

He had a front row seat a few feet away from her open casket, so he sat through the service, received condolences from people he'd never met in his life, listened to the eulogy and finally looked at her one last time as they closed her casket.

At the cemetery, he sat, holding Sam's hand like a lifeline. He was holding a rose in his hand, but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving it at his grave, it would mean that he was saying goodbye, and he couldn't do that, he couldn't accept that she was gone.

As they started lowering the casket, he had an impulse to stand, to stop them, but Mac's hand on his shoulder and Sam's hold kept him from moving. He lowered his head and stifled a sob. This was final, she was not coming back.

After the service was over, he just sat there, looking at the last resting place of the woman he had wanted to spend the rest of his life with. From the start he had known this was _it._ He had been waiting for the right time to buy a ring, to actually propose. Now that time would never come.

He didn't know how long he sat there, with Sam holding his hand, but suddenly there was someone standing in front of him, and he lifted his eyes to see Cliff Angell. He stood, trying to pull himself together and shook his hand. Instead, Cliff pulled him into a tight hug.

"My baby girl loved you, I don't know if she said it or not, but she was in love with you. You made her the happiest I remember her, and I thank you for that." Cliff said in a choked up voice.

Don couldn't stifle a sob. "I loved her too, I still love her." He said, his breath hitching.

They held on to each other for a few minutes, sharing their grief, and taking what comfort they could get. After they calmed down somewhat, they stood apart, shaking hands again.

"Don, will you come visit sometime? We could have dinner, or maybe just a cup of coffee… You're always welcome in my home."

Don nodded, looking down. "I'd like that… thank you very much."

They finally said their goodbyes, and Don and Sam were left alone by Jess' grave. Don just stood there, looking down.

He didn't know where to go from here. He couldn't go back to work, because he was not allowed to yet, he wasn't looking forward to going back home, there were still too many memories, and he was sure he'd have a bunch of people checking up on him throughout the rest of the day.

He didn't have much of a choice, since Danny approached them. "Hey, are you guys ready to go?"

Well, he might as well start getting used to it. "Sure, let's go."

* * *

As soon as they got to his place, Don started looking for something to distract himself. He didn't want to think, more importantly, he didn't want to think about what they did that morning, where they were, who they were saying goodbye to. He thought about going out for a run, but they wouldn't want him to go on his own, and he didn't want them running with him. He tried to look for something that neither Danny, Hawkes nor Sam would object to, and the only thing he could come up with was watching a movie.

The others were fixing something to eat, and talking over the phone, so he started looking though his DVD collection. Stacked between two DVD boxes he found an envelope that read _April '09_, and it had Jess' handwriting.

He opened the envelope, dropping the contents on his coffee table. There were a bunch of pictures of Jess and him, from the weekend they had spent in Long Island. He looked through the photos, most of them taken by Jess, and felt a knot forming on his throat.

Merely three weeks ago they had been having fun, rented a room by the water, they had been carefree, enjoying a weekend away from work. It was not fair… Not fair.

He felt anger boiling inside of him, taking the pictures, he threw them against the table, grabbing a glass nearby, he threw it against the wall, shattering in a thousand little pieces.

"GOD DAMN!! IT'S NOT F-CKING FAIR!!"

Breathing heavily, he started punching and kicking any piece of furniture that crossed his way, throwing against the wall anything that reached his hands.

He didn't really knew what he was doing, he just needed to vent all the anger he had inside, it's not fair, they were supposed to be happy, and so he kept repeating.

He felt hands grabbing his arms, and he fought them as well, pushing them away, his fist connecting with flesh a couple of times. Eventually he noticed them calling his name, and he looked up to see Sam's tear stained and frightened face, Danny bent over, trying to catch his breath and Hawkes standing in a non threatening way. His anger spent, he crumpled to the floor, sobbing.

"'t's not fair"

He felt more than saw Sam sitting next to him on the floor and gathering him in her arms, but he couldn't seem to stop crying. He cried for his lost future, for what he had done and what he hadn't done to save her. He just cried.

He didn't know how long he sat there crying, he didn't hear Sam's pleas for him to calm down, didn't feel Danny's approach, the only thing that breached through his sorrow was the prick of a needle on his arm, which made him jerk away.

"NO!!"

He felt Sam caressing his face. "Shhh, Donnie, it'll be alright…"

To Sam's ears, he sounded like a lost little boy. "Sam… Don't wanna sleep…"

He heard Sams reassurances, and knew that she was holding him until the dark well of sleep took him.

* * *

A/N: Cheerful, huh?

Anyway, thank you very much for reading, and for the support to keep writing this… thing.

Hope to see you around soon!


	7. Chapter 7

When he woke up the next day, he was surprised to find himself alone in his room. He turned around in his bed, finding that his head ached a bit, he felt tired, as if he'd run 20 miles, and his hands hurt.

He looked at his hands, seeing for the first time all the little scratches, the bandage over his right palm and his bruised knuckles.

"Crap" That brought back the memories of his little scene the night before. So much for keeping it cool.

Wearily, he made his way out of his bed, he moved to his door, intending to survey the damage on his living room. As he opened his bedroom door, he heard the voices of Sam and Danny coming from the kitchen.

"It's not like I was pouring me some scotch, Danny!" Don immediately tensed, Sam sounded panicked.

Danny, on the other hand, sounded calm, a little too calm. "I'm not asking you for an explanation, Sam."

"I just took a beer out of the fridge! I was going to take just one sip, maybe a few, but that was it! I wasn't going to get drunk at my brother's place, for chrissake!"

There was silence, and after a beat, Danny spoke. "Sam, you are free to do whatever you wish to do, I'm just saying that if you feel like this whole thing is too much, you don't need a bottle to keep you company, you can talk to me, to Linds, even Adam would be happy to lend an ear if you gave him a call. You're not alone on this…"

Sam sounded a little calmer now "I know, Dan, it's just… I've never seen him so broken… He-he's my big brother… He's always been the strong one, and now… It feels like nothing I do is enough… I can't help him, and it breaks my heart…" Her voice cracked, and don could hear her little sister's muffled sobs.

Don moved back to his room, closing the door silently and sitting on his bed. He leaned forward, holding his head with his hands. He was breaking his little sister's heart. He couldn't go on like this, she needed his help, needed her brother, not a weeping-whining shadow of him.

Sure, the pain was still there, as strong as the first day, and it probably wouldn't go away for a long time, but he could deal with it by himself, he didn't have to burden his family, his friends, with something that he could handle when he had the time, something he could keep inside, as he did after the bomb, he was good at holding the pain inside, and working through it.

He heard footsteps coming towards his door, and turned around to see Sam peeking though it. She looked surprised to see him up and about.

"Donnie! You're awake!" She moved to sit by his side, kissing him on the cheek. "How are you feeling?"

He shrugged, looking down. "I'm alright." He looked at her. "Listen, Sam, I'm sorry about last night… I… I don't know what happened, I didn't mean to-"

He was interrupted by Sam. "No, Don, you don't have to apologize for anything!"

"But I scared you! I could have hurt you!" Just then, Danny peeked into the room. Don could see a faint bruise on his jaw. He stood on shaky legs, taking a few steps away from Danny. "Damn, I hurt _you_, didn't I?"

Danny shrugged, coming closer to Don. "Don't worry about it, man, it's nothin'!"

"It's not _nothing_, Dan! I hit you in the face!"

Danny sat to the other side of Don. "Flack, man, it's not a big deal, I know you didn't mean it! Let's just forget it happened, alright?"

Don sighed, running a hand over his face. "It's just… I don't know what happened last night. I'm sorry! I- It won't happen again…" He looked from Danny to Sam.

"Hey, hey, you have nothing to apologize for, yesterday was a crappy day, and we get it… You don't have to apologize to us, ok?" Danny patted him on the knee.

"Alright..." Don nodded, not too convinced.

Sam stood up from the bed, looking a bit nervous. Don noted for the first time that she was carrying her purse. "Listen, Donnie, I have to run an errand, and I'll be back in a couple of hours, ok?" She sounded nervous too, like she was afraid to get caught doing something bad.

After hearing her conversation with Danny, Don could imagine where she was heading, and he couldn't resent that. "Sam, go, I'll be fine here! 'sides, you probably didn't get much sleep last night, you can go home, I promise I won't trash the place again today." He tried to give her an encouraging smile, not sure how successful he was at it.

Sam looked a bit relieved. "Alright, I'll stop by tomorrow. Eat something and call me if you need anything, ok?" She kissed Don on the cheek and turned to Danny. "You're staying here?"

"Yeah, there's cold pizza in the kitchen, we could watch the movie we didn't watch last night… Where else would I go?"

Sam laughed, and with a last wave, left. Don turned to Danny. "Dan, you don't have to stay here, you could go check on Lucy, or something…"

"Nah, a movie, a couple of beers and some pizza don't sound too bad, I'll check on my screeching bundle of joy in a couple of hours."

That made Don chuckle. "She that bad?"

They both stood, heading to the living room. "You've no idea how loud she can get…"

* * *

A week later, Don was exhausted. He had decided that his grieving was hurting those around him, so he had bottled it up, not allowing himself to show more emotion than necessary.

He was trying to show them that he was moving on, that he was healing, so he accepted every invitation, listened to all the advices, returned all the hugs with a grateful smile. He was thankful, they were trying to help, and he felt he had no right to burst that bubble. He was the problem, so he'd deal with it when he could.

They kept him busy during the days. Danny would invite him over to visit Lucy or to have dinner with him and Lindsay, Stella and Mac showed up at his apartment always willing to listen, but he never had much to say, Adam invited him to play videogames, and sometimes he came over with his console, Hawkes kept checking if he was eating well, taking care of his head, and the rest of the crime lab stopped by or sent their love more than once. Sam, was staying over every other night, mothering him as if she was the big sister, and he let her.

The nights were a completely different story. Once he was left alone with his thoughts, they would unerringly go to that day, to the blood, to the look on her face. The few hours of sleep he got during that week were plagued by nightmares of that day, so coffee became his best friend.

He had kept this mask for a whole week, sleeping one hour at most every night, and pretending that nothing was wrong the next day, but the armor was cracking by now. His temper was short, and he hated the look of hurt on his friends' faces when he let it show.

The last straw came at the worst possible place.

He was at Danny and Lindsay's house, they had invited him for dinner, and while Danny was setting the table, and Lindsay was busy at the kitchen, he had gone to check on Lucy, looking at her big blue eyes and the look on her face as she blew tiny bubbles with her mouth.

For some reason, he started thinking on Jess, on how the dream of having a family with her had been shattered, and he took a step away from Lucy's crib. Danny seemed to notice the change on his friend, and moved to put a hand on his shoulder. "Flack, are you alright?"

Don shrugged his hand off and moved further away from Danny. "Don't worry about it man, I'm fine."

Danny didn't buy it for a second. "That's a load of crap, Don. Talk to me, man."

"There's nothing to talk about, just leave me alone."

"Don! We're just trying to help!"

Don had had enough, so he moved to the door. "You wanna help? Just mind your own business, take care of your family and back the hell off! Just leave me alone!" With that, he left.

* * *

Two hours later, Danny was parking outside of Don's building. He had been trying for at least an hour to get in touch with Don, but he wasn't answering either his mobile or his home line. He had called Sam a while back, and she wasn't very successful either, so they had agreed to check on him and deal with the damage.

They met at his door, and Danny used his spare key. As they entered, they were surprised to find the apartment far too quiet, and it looked like there was no sign of Don. Since he didn't seem to be at home, Danny tried to reach him on his mobile one more time, only to hear it ringing in the kitchen.

Don had left it there, but he was nowhere to be found.

TBC…

A/N: Well, I hope you're still enjoying this story, and I thank all of you who keep reading and supporting this weird tale.

Please review, and I'll see you around!!


	8. Chapter 8

Mac Taylor wasn't one to frequent bars. Especially sometime around midnight on a weekday.

He wasn't there to wind up after a tough day though. He was looking for someone. And word said that Mac Taylor always got his man.

He sat on an empty stool by a dark corner of the bar, and ordered a beer. He didn't even flinch when he heard the familiar, if somewhat slurring, voice of the man sitting next to him.

"How'd you know I'd be here?" Don said, not bothering to look at Mac.

"Call it a hunch. I went to Jess' place and one of her neighbors told me that he had seen a young man lurking outside of the building. That he wouldn't go in, just stood outside of the building, and that he looked a bit like one of the men Detective Angell worked with. He pointed me in the direction this man went, and it was either this place or the strip bar down the block. I thought I'd try here first, since I don't have any small bills with me at the moment."

Don still wouldn't look at him. "What do you want, Mac?"

"Danny called, saying that you were missing, he called Sam too, and they were worried. I'm just here to talk, in case you want to. If you want to be left alone, I'll just go, tell Sam and Danny that you're alright and to give you a call in the morning."

"What's there to talk about?! She's gone, nothing I do or say is gonna change that."

_Well, at least he's not asking me to leave._ Mac thought, hoping to find the right words to help his friend. "Probably, not, but maybe having someone to talk about it would help you to feel a bit better."

"I'm fine. I don't need to talk to anyone to _help me feel better_." Don replied through clenched teeth, taking a long gulp of his drink.

"You are just pretending to be fine, Don, and nobody is buying your act anymore."

"I told you, I'm fine!"

"That's bullshit Don! Everyone is worried about you! Danny has tried to get you to talk and you push him away! We see how heartbroken Sam looks every time you turn away from her! It's hurting us too!"

"AND WHAT THE F-CK DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?! HUH!?" Don's yell brought upon them the attention of the whole bar. He took a deep breath to calm himself and went on, in a soft voice. "You know, a couple of weeks ago, Sam came by my place to tell me that she'd been sober for five months. Five whole months! And just last week she was asking Danny to let her have one sip of beer." His breath hitched in his chest. "And Danny… He's finally getting all he ever hoped for! How do I tell Sam that waking up every morning is so painful that sometimes I wish – I wish I didn't have to wake up again?! How do I do that to her? And- And Danny… How do I tell him that his family – His happiness – Reminds me of everything that I lost? I… I can't do that to them – I won't! I can keep pretending. And they don't have to know about it…" Don took another long drink, hoping to slow his hitching breaths.

Mac put his hand on Don's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Don, look at me." Once he got the other man's attention, he went on. "Don, they already know. Just by looking at you, no matter how hard you try to hide it, they know the truth. And it hurts them even more to know there's nothing they can do to help, because you don't want their help."

Mac went on. "I believe that we are stronger together, than we are on our own. You don't have to pretend to be strong for Sam's sake, because we'll be there to help the two of you if you need it! We're much more than coworkers, Don, we are family, and that includes Sam. We can help each other, if you'd let us."

Mac had to lean closer to hear Don's next words. "What if it's not enough?" Don looked Mac in the eye. "What if no matter what we do, this…" He put his hand over his chest "still feels the same?"

"Don, trust me, in time it will get better."

Don lowered his head, sighing. "I'm just so tired, Mac."

Mac squeezed Don's shoulder again. "I know Don. Please, let me – let us help you! I promise It'll get better."

Don finally nodded tiredly. "Alright."

As Don finished his drink, Mac got up and paid for their drinks. "What do you say we head home?"

Don nodded, standing a bit unsteadily and grabbing his jacket. On the way out, he stopped and looked at Mac. "Mac, what makes you think that I'll remember any of this tomorrow?"

Mac smiled, leading him to the door. "I'm sure you'll remember. And if you don't, then we'll have to knock it into that thick skull of yours."

Don chuckled at that. "Fair enough."

* * *

Once they were outside, Don stopped dead in his tracks. Mac moved his hand out to steady Don, thinking he had lost his balance, but Don was looking at the street, where Mac's car was parked, and where Sam and Danny were waiting for them.

Sam moved to hug Don, relieved to see him, but Don took a couple of steps back, looking at her in the eyes and then lowering his head. "Sam… I – I'm drunk." He fidgeted in his place for a while, until he felt his sister's arms wrapping around him and her voice near his ear.

"Then it's a good thing I know of the best hangover remedies in the market."

Don finally relaxed into the embrace, "I'm so sorry Sam…"

Sam would have none of that. "Hush. As long as you don't scare me like that ever again, there's nothing to apologize for-"

"But I went off on Danny, and I scared you and -"

"Donnie, I promise we'll talk all about it tomorrow, if you want to. But right now we are going home, ok?"

Don nodded. He wasn't feeling so well anymore. "a'right"

As they reached the car, Don looked at Danny. "Hey Danno… sorry 'bout before. Didn't mean to be such an ass."

Danny patted Don on the shoulder and helped him into Mac's car. "Don't worry about it, man, I'm just glad to see you're in one piece."

Looking back on it, Don couldn't remember much more of that night after getting in Mac's car. He couldn't remember his drunken ramblings on the way to his apartment, or the numerous apologies he gave to Sam, or she and Mac helping him get into bed. The only thing he could remember after that was that it was the first night of dreamless sleep he had had since that fateful may morning.

TBC…

* * *

A/N: Hey! Thanks for still being here! So, I wrote an infamous bar scene, of which I've read plenty around here, and gotten great inspiration. I hope this one isn't too cliched, or too like other bar scenes out there.

And as someone out there asked, our dear Don is still in one piece. ;-)

Again, thank you all for reading reviewing and in general supporting this story. See you around!!


	9. Epilogue

To say that everything changed after that night would be a lie. For Don, some things changed, while some thing stayed the same.

The pain of the loss was as strong as ever, if not stronger, as days passed. Some things did change though. Even if the change was slow.

After waking up to the worst hangover he'd had in a long time, Don hand a long conversation with Sam, where she yelled at him, he yelled back and finally they reached an agreement: They would not keep things to themselves. They would go through this together, and if it became too much, they could always count on a bunch of lab rats that called themselves their surrogate family.

He wasn't allowed to go back to work for some time, his medical leave and a four week suspension for excessive use of force took care of that, so he had plenty of time – far too much time in his opinion - to go through his grieving process.

To fill his days he would go for a run, watch TV or hang out with Sam and the guys from the crime lab. He even volunteered to babysit Lucy a couple of times, and he enjoyed it spoiling the little monster immensely. He dreaded the days that he had to visit the department shrink, but after a few visits he had to accept grudgingly that they helped a bit.

Still, there were bad days. Days were the nightmares kept him from sleeping, days where his short temper made him snap at everyone for no particular reason and days where everything, and everyone, reminded him of Jess, of all that he lost and all that he never even got to have.

Against his usual behavior, he didn't shut everyone out on those days. He would talk to Sam about it, or Mac would show up at his door, and he would stay with him while he got drunk, or let him rant about it. Most of all, Don was surprised that he didn't have to pretend anymore, and he was grateful for that.

The IAB Investigation was closed, and they concluded that there were special circumstances that led to the shooting of Simon Cade, so apart from his suspension, and the mandatory shrink visits, he had to be on desk duty until said shrink decided he was fit to go back on the field. By the time his suspension was over, he was so bored of staying at home that desk duty sounded like the most exciting thing in the world.

* * *

Three weeks later, Don was ready to shoot the next person who approached him with a report to fill. Not everything was wrong though, since the shrink had cleared him to go back to the street the next day.

Since it was the last day that he'd be warming up a chair in the precinct, the guys from the crime lab invited him and Sam over to the Messers' to celebrate.

He spent most of the night receiving congratulations, promising to say something if things got difficult, and reassuring everyone that in his opinion it was not too soon to go back out there, that he felt ready.

The truth is that he was worried… More than worried, actually, but he had never been a coward, he had always faced his fears head on, and this was not going to be the first time he ran away.

He was not afraid of the dangers of the street. In this city the psychos would try to hurt you whether you wore a badge or not. He was afraid that he had lost the respect, or the confidence of those he worked with. He was afraid that Mac and Danny would want to protect him on the next case they worked together. He was worried that the other homicide detectives would lose their trust in him after what he had done. He was terrified that he wouldn't be as good a cop as he was before all this happened. He couldn't hope to be the same as he once was, losing Jess had changed him too much to go back to be that person, but he was terrified of not being able to work homicides anymore.

His shrink had not been very helpful, reassuring him that he needed to give it time, and that the only way to truly see if he could go back to his old job, was to actually go back to his old job, and see how it went.

So here he sat, reassuring everyone that it'll be alright, and hoping with all his heart that it would, because he couldn't even think of the alternative.

* * *

The next morning found him in a dark little alley in New York, talking to an old lady who had found a body while she was looking for her lost kitty.

"Flack. What do we got?"

He turned to see Mac approaching him. He was surprised to hear himself addressed by his last name; everyone had been calling him "Don" for the last couple of months. He kind of liked the change. He must have trailed off, because Mac started looking impatient.

"Flack, do you need a written invitation?" Mac said, raising an eyebrow.

Flack grinned, feeling a little giddy that, at least with Mac, they were back to business as usual.

"Sorry Mac, the name's Nicholas Cooper, this good lady was looking for her missing cat, and when she found her, munching on something near the dumpster, she ran into Mr. Cooper's body. Not a very healthy diet for a kitty if you ask me."

Mac gave him a serious look, but Don didn't miss the fact that the corners of his mouth were turning upwards. "Anything else we should know about?"

"Other than the two gunshots to the chest, nope. I'm going to ask around to see if we got any other witnesses."

"Let me know if you have anything" Mac moved to start taking pictures of the body.

"Sure thing." As Don turned around to start looking for witnesses, he heard Mac.

"It's good to have you back, Flack."

"Thanks, It's good to be back." Don felt a weight lifting from his shoulders. He sighed, a grin coming to his face. _He was back._

The End… (For real this time)

* * *

A/N: Wow... I actually ended a story... Well, writing the story in the first place was pretty incredible, and getting so much support from everyone was just amazing.

That's why I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed this story, who put me on alerts and all of those thingies, because it was because of you that I actually continued from that little blurb that I started with.

I'm not sure if I'll write something else, at all, or maybe I'll move to my geekier nature and write a Lord of the rings fanfic, but I hope to see you around if I ever go back to this fandom.

Hugs all around.


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